


Dead Boy Rising: Act 1

by TheArtisticIntrovert



Series: Dead Boy Rising: JD/Veronica Swap AU [1]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, this one's probably even more fucked up than act 2 tbH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtisticIntrovert/pseuds/TheArtisticIntrovert
Summary: What if Veronica Sawyer was the mastermind? What if JD were the emo new kid, accidentally landing a spot with the coolest clique in school?A whole lotta shit, that's what.(First part of a two-part rewrite, mixing movie and musical canon)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bandtrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandtrees/gifts).



Jason Andrew Dean wasn’t really one for making friends. Everyone in highschool sucked, they all hated each other, and they were the same no matter where he went. Occasionally he wondered what would happen if he decided to just burn down his most recent school just before his dad moved, then remembered that, no, he shouldn’t do that, because he’d be sent to jail. And also because it’s wrong.

 

The point is, nowhere he went was any different. You had your geeks, your nerds, your preps, and your punks. You had the stoners, the skaters, the losers, and the liars. And every single school had the Populars. Those people who were on top of the world, untouchable, bitchy, and all-around incapable of being decent. Westerburg High in Sherwood, Ohio wasn’t any different from any other school he’d gone to.

 

He’d shown up three weeks after the start of the school year, too late to form any bonds with any of the pre-established social groups (except maybe the stoners, but they didn’t count.) He’d resigned himself to three months of lonely lunches, though it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, when he bumped into someone and his whole world changed.

 

“Ugh, watch it!” He blinked up at the girl he’d bumped into, tilting his head slightly.

 

“Uh....sorry? I didn’t see you.” She scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder as her friends sneered down at him.

 

“Do you even know who I _am?!”_ she snapped, hands on her hips as she leaned over him intimidatingly. He stood up, brushing himself off and straightening his coat.

 

“No, actually. I’m new, just transferred in today.” She narrowed her eyes at him, seemingly looking for something. “Uh, I’m Jason Dean. Er, JD, for short. Nice to....meet you?” he said uncertainly, sticking out his hand for her to shake. She looked down at it like he’d just offered her a dead rat, and her green-blazered friend frowned slightly.

 

“Heather, come on. He’s new, give him a break,” said the green girl. Yellow girl frowned at her, and the lead girl, Heather probably, turned her glare on the green girl.

 

“Shut up Heather!” JD blinked again, now thoroughly confused. Two Heathers? Green Heather recoiled like she’d been slapped, looking down at the ground.

 

“Sorry, Heather....”

 

“Should.....Should I go?” JD asked faintly, feeling like they were just ignoring him now. Yellow girl reached out and snagged his sleeve, almost causing him to trip over the bottom of his coat.

 

“Hey, Heather, look! If you squint, he’s actually kinda cute! Like a lil puppy, huh?” she said, leaning in close and bending almost in half to examine his face closer. He cringed back a bit, highly uncomfortable with his personal space invaded like that. Red Heather frowned, looking closer.

 

“You know Heather, you’re right. He _is_ kind of cute, for a random new kid. But, first....” She addressed JD this time, almost causing him to snap to attention it was so sudden. “You’re not a freshman, are you?” He shook his head, almost resigned to the question.

 

“No, I’m a senior. I’m just short,” he said, with the tired air of someone who’d answered this very same question many times before. Yellow Heather squinted at him again, nodding and straightening up again. Green Heather grabbed his face, turning his head this way and that. Red Heather looked at the other Heathers, smirking slightly.

 

“Well, we _do_ have an opening, since Sawyer left. Heather, do you still have that sweater vest in your locker?” Yellow Heather nodded, and Red Heather pinched the edge of his coat between her fingers, frowning. Green Heather sneered at his holey jeans, but didn’t comment.

 

“Well, Jason, we’ve come to a decision. As a new kid here at Westerburg, they’ll eat you alive if you don’t have a guide! I’ll let you join our crew, but you have to ditch the coat.” He scowled, tugging his coat closer to him.

 

“Nuh-uh. You’ll have to pry this coat out of my cold, dead hands.”

 

“I guess you _don’t_ want to join the most popular group at school then?” Red Heather asked, like it was such a big deal. He snorted, shrugging.

 

“Honestly? I’m still not entirely sure who you all are. Like I said, I literally got here yesterday. I’m sure that I can find _someone_ to sit with,” he said easily, ignoring the little voice that was screaming at him for being an idiot. Red Heather looked like she was about to slap him, but Green Heather stepped forward.

 

“Let me trim it, at least. You look like a little kid playing dress-up with Daddy’s clothes.” It sounded bitchy and rude, but he could faintly detect the genuine concern underneath. He bit his lip, but nodded.

 

“Fine. Here.” He dropped his backpack, shrugging the heavy trenchcoat off his shoulders and handing it to Green Heather. Yellow and Red Heather seemed surprised to see him wearing semi-normal clothes underneath, but only nodded in approval.  
  
“Better. Button up that shirt. Heather, I need that vest.” Yellow Heather nodded and turned to an open locker next to her, extracting a dark blue sweater vest from within its confines. She wrestled it over his head after he buttoned his overshirt, a gleeful look lighting up her eyes. Almost like a kid playing dress-up with a doll. He scowled, but didn’t protest, straightening the vest and unbuttoning the collar so he could breathe. Red Heather nodded approvingly, though she still didn’t seem to want to touch him. “Good. Find us at lunch, Jason, because you just earned a spot with the Heathers.”

 

Maybe Westerburg wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

\--

 

He was wrong. Holy fuck he was wrong. He underestimated exactly how much the kids here would want to know about a new kid, especially one who somehow managed to land a spot with the most popular girls in school on his first day. Turns out that both Yellow and Green Heather had History with him, fourth period, just before lunch. Red Heather was in his French class, and Green Heather was in his math class. In addition to his new friends(?), there was this one girl who kept glaring at him.

 

He didn’t get a chance to talk to her, though he did sneak peeks at her from the corner of his eye. Long grey overcoat, a dark purple woolen scarf, and......were those pajamas? His eyes narrowed, curiosity taking over. He really wanted to know who this fashion disaster enigma was, and what exactly her problem with him was.

 

He didn’t get a chance until lunch, when Green Heather (Duke, he learned her last name was) finally returned his coat. She cited Home Ec as her reason for getting it done so fast, but he was calling bullshit. No way could you hem a coat that raggedy in one period. It just wasn’t humanly possible. He shivered when he felt a glare on him again, glancing behind him as he pulled the coat back on. The mystery girl was staring at him again, an unreadable expression on her face. “Hey, Heather, who's that girl back there, in the scarf? She keeps glaring at me....” he asked, looking over at Green Heather. She glanced behind him, scowling.

 

“Veronica Sawyer. If you know what’s good for you, _don’t_ talk to her, got it?” He blinked, about to ask, but thought better of it when he saw the venom in her eyes. Instead, he just closed his mouth and nodded, not wanting to get on her bad side just yet. Green Heather relaxed, glancing over at Red Heather as if afraid she’d overstepped a boundary. When no acidic remark came, she relaxed further. Yellow Heather’s hands clenched slightly, but the tiny movement went unnoticed in the bustle of the cafeteria.

 

He knew he shouldn’t go talk to Veronica, but......she intrigued him. “Hey, Jason! Are you even listening?” He jumped, tuning back into the conversation.

 

“Y-Yeah, I am!” Red Heather raised an eyebrow, looking at him unimpressed.

 

“Right. Sure you are. Anyway, we were going to head over to Kurt’s after school, not like a party or anything, just to chill. You got plans?” JD weighed his options. Spend three hours with his dad, talking about his ‘latest business deal’, or _avoid_ all that and hang out with people who probably hated him on principle. Or, option three: do neither, and lie to both.

 

He smiled shyly, shrugging apologetically. “I...I do have plans actually, sorry. My...My dad wants me home. Family game night, you know?” he said, the lies falling from his mouth easily. Red Heather frowned, and Yellow Heather actually looked on the verge of tears.

 

“Laaame...Fine, but you're doing something with us tomorrow, got it?” Red Heather snapped. JD nodded quickly, not wanting to get on her bad side any more than he probably already was. Luckily for him, the lunch bell rang, signaling his freedom from popularity hell.

 

\--

 

The bell on the door sounded like it was welcoming him home. In a way, he supposed it was. Though he'd never been to this specific store before, the only thing that's changed between here and the one in Denver was the layout. He smiled to himself, heading straight for the slushie machine in the back of the store.

 

To his surprise, Veronica Sawyer was leaning against the counter, scribbling in a notebook and drinking a frozen coffee. He edged around her, grabbing the biggest slushie cup they had and beginning to fill it with cherry slush. “So, first day and already indoctrinated into the Heathers, huh?” JD yelped, a sound he'd deny forever, and nearly dropped his cup.

 

Veronica laughed, a quiet gigglesnort that was oddly adorable. He blushed, setting the cup down. “I mean, I guess? I wouldn't have cared either way, honestly. They're a bit too.......... _wild_ for me, honestly.” He carefully topped off the cup, settling the lid over the perfect curl on top.

 

“Wow, that was almost professional. Come here often?” Veronica asked, quite obviously changing the subject. JD didn't mind. He came here so he _wouldn't_ have to think about the Heathers.

 

“Not here specifically, but yeah. You could say I'm an old hat. It's not that hard to get the hang of, a 7-11 is a 7-11 is a 7-11, no matter where you are,” he said, sticking a straw in the cup. She tilted her head, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

 

“Move around a lot?” she asked. He nodded, taking a drink of the slushie.

 

“Yeah. Probably been to half the states by now. Dad's work takes us all over, so I try not to get used to one town if I can help it.” Veronica smiled, but something about it was......odd. Like she was scheming something. JD wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. “Anyway, I’m Jason, but call me JD.” He offered his hand to shake, hoping she didn’t refuse it like Red Heather had. He wasn’t sure if his self-esteem could take another hit.

 

Veronica smiled, shaking his hand. “Veronica. Everyone calls me Ronnie though.” She took another sip of her drink, glancing at the counter when the straw made a noise. JD followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Didn’t pay?” he asked. She nodded, smirking around the straw.

 

“To be fair, neither did you,” she pointed out, nodding at the half-empty cup. He swore quietly, but didn’t move. It was a bit too late now, and there was only one employee working anyway, and she couldn’t even see them through the aisles. “Little rebel, are we?” she asked, chuckling. His blush returned in full force, and he swore he felt butterflies in his stomach.

 

“I wouldn’t say a _rebel,_ just _lazy._ Plus, she’s not even paying attention. I think as long as we’re quiet we can get away with it,” he said, smiling up at her. Her smile seemed to turn fake for a second, confusing him. Was it something he’d said?

 

“Ah, a true anarchist,” Ronnie said sarcastically, fake smile gone and replaced by a real one. “Oh yeah, I just remembered I had a question.” JD tilted his head, inviting her to ask. “How’d you get in with the Heathers, anyway? I had to forge a hall pass and lie to Miss Fleming, so what’d you do?” she asked. He hesitated, then shrugged.

 

“I’m not actually sure. I bumped into Red Heather this morning on accident, we got into an argument, and I think she almost hit me, but Yellow Heather saved me by calling me a puppy I think?” He shrugged. “Then Green Heather stole my coat and the rest was history, I guess.” Ronnie gaped at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

 

 _“Seriously?_ Daaaaamn, JD! You’re one lucky kid, you know that?” she whistled, finishing her coffee. He blushed, scratching the back of his head.

 

“I dunno about _lucky...”_ he said, but Ronnie smirked again and interrupted.

 

“Hey, my friend Martha and I are gonna have a movie night tomorrow. You wanna come? I think you’d like her.” The butterflies in JD’s stomach intensified, and he almost agreed straight away before pausing.

 

“I....don’t think I can. Red Heather’s already pissed I skipped out on them tonight, who knows what she’d do if I did it two nights in a row?” He sighed, pouting. “Kinda blows, I’d much rather hang out with you and your friend. You seem much nicer.”

 

Ronnie pouted, giving him puppy dog eyes. “C'mon JD, please? I can protect you from Chandler, if you want!” she said. He raised an eyebrow, but shrugged anyway.

 

“You know what? Sure, whatever. You're nicer than they are, and if your friend is anything like you, I'll have way more fun at her house.” He took a giant gulp of his slushie, barely wincing at the familiar pain of a brainfreeze. “It's a date then?”

 

“If that's what you want to call it, sure.”

 

\--

 

It was surprisingly easy to avoid giving a committal answer to Red Heather’s constant questions about if he was going to a party that night at Remington with them, simply citing that he had to get to class (he didn’t) or he’d think about it (he wouldn't) or he’d have to check with his dad (yeah right) whenever she asked. He saw Ronnie a few more times throughout the day, but never actually went over to her. She was always with a large girl in a pink sweater, sometimes joined by a nerdy-looking girl with huge circular glasses. He wasn’t quite sure which one was Martha, but judging by the way Kurt yelled “MARTHA DUMPTRUCK!!! WIIIDE LOADDDD!!!” every time sweater-girl was around, he assumed that she was Martha.

 

He wasn’t worried she’d be a secret bitch. Anyone Kurt Kelly didn’t get along with was sure to be at least decent.

 

After school, he used his short stature to his advantage, ducking and weaving through the crowd and sprinting out the back to meet Ronnie by the buses. She said she’d meet him back there so he could avoid the Heathers, as they always parked at the front of the school. Sure enough, just as the last bus pulled out, a beat up old station wagon pulled in. He glanced at the  driver’s seat quickly to make sure it was the right car before yanking open the backdoor and clambering in. He closed it and collapsed on the seat, gasping for air.

 

“You didn’t have to run.” He turned his head, glaring up at Ronnie, though there was no real heat behind it.

 

“I beg...to differ....” he gasped, heartbeat finally slowing down enough for him to sit up and put his seatbelt on. “Did you _see_ the way they kept trying to corner me?”

 

Ronnie didn’t get a chance to answer, interrupted by the other person in the car he hadn’t seen. “Ronnie, who’s this? Is this the friend you told me about yesterday?” He blinked, looking at the front passenger seat. There sat Probably-Martha, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Oh, uh, hi. You’re, Martha, right? I’m JD. Nice to meet you!” he said, blushing slightly and offering his hand to shake. Hey, manners were still a thing, even if he tended to ignore them. Once again, his hand was ignored, though this time it was with less of an ‘oh god do you really expect me to _touch_ that?’ look and more of an ‘ok wow I don’t want to be rude or anything but no thanks’ look. It was, quite honestly, the most polite dirty look he’d ever gotten.

 

JD coughed awkwardly, taking his hand back. Ronnie frowned, elbowing Martha gently in the side and giving her a stern look. Martha blushed, looking away apologetically. “S-Sorry. I’m Martha Dunnstock. I, uh.....I hear you’re joining us for movie night?” He nodded, looking out the window as they began to move.

 

“Yeah, I guess so. Honestly, it sounds way more fun to watch a movie than to fight off a bunch of drunk college kids. I just hope the Green and Yellow Heathers are gonna be alright, people seem to get......handsy around them.” Martha blinked, eyes wide.

 

“Wait, you blew off a party with the Heathers......to hang out with _us?”_ she asked, sounding honestly bewildered. He didn’t blame her. If the Heathers were truly as untouchable as the student body saw them as, he’d wonder why anyone would blow them off, too. As it stood though, all he saw them as was a bunch of color-coded stereotypes. He’d known them for literally a day, after all.

 

He shrugged, brushing his bangs away from his face. “Honestly? If it were just the Green and Yellow Heathers I’d be chill hanging with them. Unfortunately, they don’t go anywhere without Red Heather, and we don’t exactly get along. Plus, I’d rather two friends who aren’t total assholes than five who are,” he explained, playing with a loose thread inside his sleeve. It didn’t feel quite the same, having his jacket actually fit. He was glad that Green Heather had left the sleeves as they were, instead of fixing them too. He needed the familiarity in an unfamiliar place.

 

Martha was quiet for a while, and internally, he sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea....Obviously, it was too late to cut his losses and run, the Heathers were probably already at the party by now. Probably noticed he was missing too, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. So deep in thought, he missed what Martha said until she poked him in the knee. He jumped, looking at her in shock. Her eyes were still distrustful, but he couldn’t blame her. He’d seen how badly she’d been getting bullied by the ‘popular kids’. “Do you like The Princess Bride?” she asked hesitantly. He smiled slightly, close-mouthed and unsure.

 

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen it.” Martha brightened up, practically bouncing in her seat.

 

“Oh man oh man, someone who hasn’t seen it a million times! This is gonna be _awesome,_ JD! I can’t wait!”

 

\--

 

 _“JASON DEAN WHERE THE_ **_FUCK_ ** _DID YOU GO?!”_ JD winced, holding the phone away from his ear as Red Heather ranted and raved. When the noise died down a bit, he risked putting the handset back to his ear.

 

“I was watching a movie with a friend. Sorry, I’d made the plans before I knew how big a deal the party was supposed to be,” he said, trying to explain. Red Heather growled, then quieted again, a small noise that could’ve been a whimper if she was anyone else making it through the static.

 

 _“Look, get your ass over here and make me a Prairie Oyster, and I’ll forgive you. I’d do it myself, but I can’t move. I’ve got a killer headache, so don’t take forever, got it?!”_ she snapped, quieter this time.

 

“Alright, I’ll be right over. Um.....where do you live again?” After writing her address down, JD hung up, grabbing his discarded coat from the arm of the couch and heading for the door. He dodged Ronnie, but wasn’t so lucky with the end table. He bumped the popcorn bowl, a few kernels falling out and hitting her in the face. He bit his lip, glancing down at her before starting off to the door again. He’d leave a note or something.

 

“Mmmn....JD? Where.....where‘re ya goin’....?” JD stiffened, feeling guilty even though he wasn’t doing anything bad.

 

“I...uh....I just got a call from Red Heather. She’s pissy and hungover, so I’m gonna go make her a hangover cure so she won’t rip my head off later,” he explained, trying to keep his voice low so he didn’t wake Martha, (who was currently using a throw pillow as a teddy bear) and starting to pull his coat on. Ronnie yawned again, nodding and scowling.

 

“Lemme come with.” He blinked, surprised.

 

“Wait, seriously? I thought you guys hated each other?” he said. Actually, he _hadn’t_ been sure about that. He just knew that whenever Ronnie and any of the Heathers were in a room together, the tension was so thick you could cut a slice out and serve it like birthday cake. She grimaced, standing up and unsticking her hair from her face.

 

“Yeah, we do, kinda. But you don’t have a car, and her house is super far from here. Lemme drive you, at least.” He nodded, slipping his coat on the rest of the way and pulling a pencil out of a pocket.

 

“Sounds reasonable. I’m just gonna leave a note for Martha, so she doesn’t think we ditched her.” He looked around for paper, jumping back slightly when he turned to find Ronnie holding her notebook under his nose.

 

“Take one of the back sheets,” she said, sounding amused. He blushed slightly, clearing his throat and tearing out one of the last pages from the notebook.

 

“Alright.....there. Now Martha hopefully won’t think we got kidnapped or something. Ready to go?” he said, glancing up at her as he picked up the popcorn bowl and the kernels. She nodded, stretching again and grabbing her scarf from the floor, winding it around her neck loosely as he stuck the note underneath the bowl.

 

“I’ll be in the car.”

 

\--

 

“Alright, so a Prairie Oyster was, what.....egg, tabasco.....salt.....what else?” JD muttered, opening Heather’s fridge and digging around.

 

“Pepper and worcestershire sauce,” Ronnie reminded him, reaching above him into the cabinet where he assumed Heather kept her spices. She sat down the pepper, taking over digging in the fridge when he reemerged with an egg. He sat it on the counter, dragging a chair over and looking through the cabinet where he thought she might keep the cups.

 

Instead he found a bunch of cleaning supplies, everything from Pine-Sol to bleach. He chuckled to himself, pulling out the Drano and jumping down. “I mean, we could give her this. I hear it tastes _real_ sweet, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the hangover anymore!” he joked, showing Ronnie the bottle. She paled slightly, but laughed anyway. He felt the butterflies grow, and his own smile turned a little dazed.

 

“I mean, yeah, you have a point,” she said finally, her voice tight. He blinked, realizing he’d missed something. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure what it was. It was just a joke, right?

 

Ronnie reached over him, grabbing two light pink mugs and setting one down on the counter, taking the other over to where the egg was. She began making the drink, while JD stared at the Drano in his hand. She laughed, right? She thought it was funny, _right?_ He bit his lip, shrugging and pouring the Drano into the second mug. He wasn’t sure why Ronnie had brought it out in the first place, but he wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe she just wanted to steal some of Heather’s coffee, who knows.

 

He closed the bottle when the mug was half full, moving the mug and clambering back up onto the counter to put the bottle away. He stuck it back in the cabinet, closing the door and hesitating at the spice cabinet. He eyed the food coloring for a long time, before shaking his head and closing the door. That’d be going a little _too_ far.

 

JD brought the mug over to where Ronnie was just mixing the pepper in. “Done this before?” he asked. She shrugged, tapping the spoon on the side of the mug and moving to the sink.

 

“Used to make them for Heather all the time back in sophomore year. I know how to make these like the back of my hand by now,” she explained. JD nodded, setting the mug down next to the Prairie Oyster mug. He’d just prank Ronnie a little, then take the mug back before they gave it to Heather, no big deal.

 

Unfortunately, even the best laid plans often go awry.

 

Call it fate, or karma, or hell, even destiny, but the ‘harmless prank’ didn’t go quite as planned. Instead of managing to stop Ronnie before she grabbed the wrong mug, he himself grabbed the wrong one. She had stayed behind, probably to drink whatever she was gonna put in that mug, while he brought the Prairie Oyster to Heather.

 

Except, it was _Ronnie_ who had the Prairie Oyster. JD glanced down at the mug before knocking on Heather’s door, startling for a second before shrugging. Hey, he had a phone, he could call 911. It’s fine. Ronnie thought it was funny.

 

He waited for a muffled response before opening the door, dodging pillows and furniture on his way to the hand flailing at the air. “Heather, you gotta sit up so you can drink,” he said softly, cracking a small smile at the annoyed groan she made. She sat up, glaring at him with half-closed eyes, leaning back on the headboard. He handed her the mug, palming his phone in preparation. She squeezed her eyes shut and downed the drink in one gulp, shuddering slightly. Her eyes popped open in surprise and panic as she clutched at her throat, and he swore violently just as Ronnie burst into the room.

 

“JD WAIT NO—” She skidded to a stop, looking on in horror at Heather’s slumped over form, drain cleaner still dribbling out of the side of her mouth. JD felt tears welling up in his eyes, wide with shock. He swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly cottony throat. He looked over at Ronnie, wincing when he didn’t see the smile he had expected. It was just a joke! A _joke!_ She started trembling, though he couldn’t tell if it was fear, anger, or sorrow.

 

“Ronnie, I—”

 

“What the _fuck_ have you done?” she asked, voice hoarse. He fell silent, looking away from her.

 

“It was supposed to just be a joke....” He looked up at her again, silently begging her to understand. “It was supposed to be funny! I didn’t mean to, I promise!” he said desperately, feeling like he just swallowed a ball of lead. His stomach churned, a nauseating mixture of fear, dread, and guilt. Ronnie looked away from the body, shaking harder and dragging her fingers through her hair. Her face was flushed red, probably from trying to contain sobs.

 

JD knew he was supposed to feel awful, since he just _murdered_ someone. However, he only felt bad that he made Ronnie cry. She had seemed like such an uncaring badass, the fact that _he_ was the one who made her cry over a girl she hated rubbed him the wrong way. His fingers twisted in the fabric of his sleeves, twisting and pinching until it cut off his circulation. His breathing sped up as he started to panic, coming out in short, wheezy gasps. She probably _hated_ him now...

 

“JD.....it’s okay.....I’m not...I’m not mad. I promise,” she said faintly, cutting off his impending panic attack. His breath caught in his throat and he looked at her, askance.

 

“No offense then, but you’re a fucking idiot. I just _killed_ Heather Chandler! On accident, but still!” He started to shake again, knees giving out. He bit back a cry of pain as he hit the hardwood, a few tears spilling over his cheeks. Ronnie finally tore her gaze away from the body, walking over and kneeling next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder gently, giving him a shaky smile.

 

It was like it washed away all his fear. His breath caught in his throat again, and his blush returned full force. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll....I’ll take care of it. You go home, okay? We’re not that far from the school. If you turn right when you get outside and keep walking, you’ll find it. You can find your house from there, I hope. Just......don’t worry about Heather. I’ll handle it.” She kissed the top of his head gently, hugging him before standing and tugging him to his feet. “C’mon. Get out of here.”

 

He nodded, managing a shaky few steps towards the door before looking back. He nearly started sobbing in earnest when he noticed Ronnie wipe away tears. He forced himself to keep walking, hugging his stomach.

 

He didn’t want to know how Ronnie would ‘handle’ it.

 

\--

 

Miss Fleming cornered him the next day, stopping him as he was headed to lunch. He didn’t mind, he had been avoiding the remaining Heathers out of guilt and a lingering sense of paranoia. He hadn’t been looking forward to trying to avoid them at lunch. He tuned back into Miss Fleming’s babbling just as they reached the auditorium, catching the tail end of how sorry she was for him.

 

“—nd I know you must be feeling _terrible,_ what with one of your friends committing suicide and all, but I have just the thing to cheer everyone up! I decided that we should hold an assembly, one to show everyone that everyone has issues, and that they aren’t alone! I wanted you to take part, if that’s alright with you?” He blinked, confused. Suicide? What exactly had Ronnie _done?_

 

He realized Miss Fleming was still waiting for an answer, and coughed slightly, embarrassed. “S-Sorry, Miss Fleming. I’ve been....out of it today. I’d......I didn’t know Heather very well, actually. But........I’d love to partake in your assembly. What did you have in mind?” She beamed, handing him a copy of a script, what looked like a poem—or song lyrics. He looked them over, eyebrows creeping farther and farther into his hairline with every word he read. _‘Shine a light? What the hell is this shit?! And....._ **_dancing?!’_ **

 

“So, just look it over, and meet us backstage when you’re ready. I’m going to make an announcement in the cafeteria, so I’ll be back soon.” She patted him on the shoulder, giving him a sad smile before tottering off. He sighed, hugging his stomach again with one hand while holding the script with his other. He sighed, absently dodging chairs and the sound booth while heading backstage, still in a daze.

 

_“Oh my god, is that Jason Dean?”_

 

_“Heard he was always butting heads with Chandler...”_

 

 _“What’re you trying to say?”_  


_“Ohmygodhe’ssittingnexttomethisisadreamcometrueI’vegotaHeathernexttome—”_

 

“—son? Hey, Jason? Are you okay?” He jumped, looking to his left. Sitting next to him was Green Heather, her makeup as impeccable as always, though it couldn’t disguise the red rings around her eyes. He gave her a shaky smile, shrugging.

 

“Honestly I could say the same to you,” he pointed out, smile faltering for a second. She scoffed quietly, crossing her arms and playing with her ponytail.

 

“I dunno....Heather was always really rude to me but.....we were friends, you know? I don’t know what it’ll be like anymore, now that she’s not here anymore.......” She hiccuped, shoulders shaking. “Am I a bad friend? I didn’t notice she was hurting, but.......” She looked at him again, eyes begging silently for forgiveness. “I prayed for her to die so many times, Jason....Is it my fault she’s dead?” His eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically.

 

“Heather, no! It’s not your fault. Trust me, you’re less at fault than _I_ am—” True statement. “—and I’ve known her for literally two days! Heather’s death isn’t on your hands, I promise.” He looked away awkwardly, playing with the loose thread in his sleeve. “Do....Do you want a hug?” he asked hesitantly. She paused, then nodded. He lifted his arm, letting her curl up into his side like a child. He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly and trying to block out the whispers.

 

He didn’t want any of this to happen, but it did, so this is what he had to deal with. If he could go back in time, well.......He probably wouldn’t change anything, but he definitely would’ve stopped Ronnie from making it look like a suicide. He would’ve thrown himself on the mercy (or mercilessness, as the case may be) of the courts. Technically he still could, there was still time, but Duke needed him. He couldn’t abandon her like that. He couldn’t lose her.

 

\--

 

 _“Jason I need your help. Heather is distracting them but I need you to come to the cemetery, like, pronto.”_ JD blinked, brain still fuzzy from sleep.

 

“W-Woah, Heather, slow down. Distracting who? What’s going on?” he asked. She was silent for a minute, before speaking again.

 

 _“Kurt and Ram. Me n’ Heather went on a double date with them to the cemetery but then they started asking for sex and the only way I could get them off our backs is if I called a friend instead. I-I know it sounds bad but they won’t try anything with you because you’re a boy and-and.....”_ She broke off into panicked breathing here, and he swore quietly.

 

“A-Alright, look, Heather, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Give me ten minutes, I need to get dressed. Just....I dunno, get in the car and lock the door. Tell them your friend is on the way,” he said, propping his phone against his ear and tugging a pair of baggy jeans on over his boxers. She hiccuped again, but agreed. He faintly heard a car door closing, and the lock clicking.

 

He wasn’t expecting the arrhythmic pounding on the window, signaling Kurt and/or Ram was trying to bust in. He swore again, louder this time. _“Please hurry...”_ Heather whispered, before the line went dead. He pulled on a tshirt, not bothering with the fancy ‘Heather Clothes’, and pulling his jacket on over that. He put his phone in one pocket, a borderline illegal switchblade he’d built himself from a kit he got on his 14th birthday in the other. He thought about going out the front door, but decided against it. His dad was home, and a notoriously light sleeper when sober. Instead, he opened the window, popping out the bent screen easily and sliding down the roof to the ground.

 

He landed in a bush, rolling over and taking off right as his feet hit the pavement. The cemetery, luckily, wasn’t too far from his house. Five minutes if he walked, three if he ran. One and a half if he went at top speed.

 

He made it in one. He easily located Heather’s Jeep, the one with the jocks hanging off of it. He stuck his hand in his pocket, fingering the switchblade gently, making sure not to trigger the switch. He hoped desperately he wouldn’t have to use it.

 

“C’moooon, Duke! Live a lil’! They’re hangin’ sadly.......” Ram whined, sliding down the left side of the Jeep. Kurt pounded on the opposite window sloppily, obviously drunk.

 

“When’s yer friend gonna get heeeree.....” he groaned, pouting. JD recoiled, lip curling in disgust. He’d been afraid of _this?_ Gross...

 

“Yo, fucknuts! How about instead of getting _yourself_ off, you get off the car instead, huh?” JD yelled, glaring at them as he came closer. Ram peered at him, confused and seemingly disappointed. Kurt pouted harder, using the Jeep to support his weight at this point, though they both seemed to be sobering up.

 

“I thought you were callin’ a hot chick!” he yelled at the window. Duke sneered, shooting a quick apologetic glance at JD through the windshield. He shook his head slightly, but didn’t dare say anything.

 

“I said I was calling a _friend,_ jackass!” she yelled back, barely audible. Ram scowled, tugging on the door handle fruitlessly. At least she and Mcnamara were safe.

 

JD was snapped out of his thoughts when they both started advancing on him, obviously deciding that it was easier to take their frustrations out on the target that they could actually _reach._ He wasn’t sure what the exchange rate from sexual frustration to punching ability was, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to find out.

 

He pulled the knife out of his pocket, shedding his jacket and tossing it away to free up his arms. They hesitated for a second, obviously not expecting that, before continuing their advance. Maybe seeing the lack of muscles on his noodley frame encouraged them. He was more focused on trying not to die, hoping adrenaline would take over soon, or else these guys could snap him in half.

 

He pressed the button on the knife, the blade flipping out of the handle with a near-silent _shnk._ They paused longer this time, Kurt’s eyes widening. “H-Hey, what the fuck?! Aren’t those illegal in Ohio?” he asked, fear leaking through into his voice. JD shrugged, feigning innocence.

 

“If anyone asks, it’s my dad’s.” He smirked, shifting his stance into a defensive one, keeping one eye on each of the jocks. Ram growled, rushing towards him. Adrenaline _still_ hadn’t kicked in, and JD cursed, trying to dodge, but instead ending up on the ground as he tripped over his shoelace. He smacked his head hard on the asphalt, stars swimming in his vision.

 

Finally, _finally,_ he felt the familiar hot rush of adrenaline running through his veins. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the pain, or if his brain had finally woken up, but he wasn’t complaining. He thrust the hand with the knife up, stabbing into Ram’s calf. Ram yelped in pain, going down hard. Kurt yelled wordlessly, grabbing JD off the ground before he could get back up.

 

JD panicked, flailing his legs and kicking Kurt in the stomach. He winced, but still didn’t drop him. Fear was threatening to overtake him, and JD cursed silently. He reached out, punching Kurt in the face once before grabbing him by the ears and slamming his face down into his knee. Kurt dropped him and staggered back, clutching his nose.

 

“Dude, what the fuck! You’re crazy!” Kurt yelled, though it was distorted by the blood dribbling out of his nose. JD winced, standing up again and wiping blood away from a cut under his eye that he’d gotten when he hit the ground the second time.

 

“Yeah, I guess I am. Leave Duke and Mcnamara alone, got it? Or I’ll do worse than break your fucking nose,” he sneered, trying to calm his wildly racing heart. Kurt looked like he wanted to hit him again, but glanced at Ram and his tension dissolved. Instead, he shot him a glare before dragging Ram to his feet and tossing his arm around his shoulders.

 

“This isn’t over, Dean. Not by a long shot.”

 

“Ha! What’re you gonna do, tell the whole school you were beat up by a punkass noodle boy?” he sneered, crossing his arms. Kurt smirked, an expression that looked sorely out of place on his face.

 

“Worse.”

 

\--

 

JD wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been getting shoved into a locker with a muttered, disgusted “Fag!” He blinked, staring after the jock who’d pushed him with a disbelieving air. Three days. Three days he’d been here and not even the Populars could save him from assholes.

 

He glanced over at Duke, who looked just as confused as he felt. “The fuck was that all about?” he asked, lost. She shrugged, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes.

 

“I don’t know, but whatever it was probably isn’t good.” Silently, JD agreed. Something had changed, but he had absolutely no idea what it was.

 

***

 

It wasn’t until school was out that he finally got a clue. Betty Finn came up to him as he was leaving his English class, wringing her hands. “Betty? What’s wrong?” he asked. She colored slightly, looking away from him and swallowing a few times.

 

“JD........Kurt’s saying you forced him and Ram to.....well.....” She trailed off, seemingly unable to continue. Duke’s eyes widened, and she paled drastically. She seemed to have connected the dots, pressing her lips tightly together. He raised an eyebrow, a heavy ball of dread in his gut.

 

“Betty? What....What are they saying I did?” he pressed. She shook her head, looking behind him and running off, eyes wide. Kurt clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture that could be read as friendly, until that same hand threw him to the ground harshly. “Hey, what the hell?!” he snapped, glaring up at Kurt.

 

Kurt sneered down at him, crossing his arms. “That’s payback for last night, you fucking faggot,” he snarled, eyes hard. JD’s brow furrowed, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing when Kurt kicked him back down.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?!” he snapped, anger starting to cloud his judgement. If he didn’t get some answers soon, he’d have to add a fifth high school to his ‘suspended-from’ list. People were starting to gather in the halls, whispering and speculating. He scowled, waiting for an answer.

 

_“Does he not remember?”_

 

 _“Is he faking it?”_  


_“Obviously not, I mean, look at him! Can you really believe someone that shifty_ **_wouldn’t_ ** _try something?”_

 

 _“Yeah, but I mean, with_ **_Kurt Kelly?_ ** _He’s a douche, even homos_ **_have_ ** _to have standards!”_

 

He was starting to piece it together. The name-calling, the dirty looks.......it being _Kurt_ who was spreading  the rumors....It was all painting a picture he didn’t like the look of. He pushed himself onto his elbows again, glaring at Kurt. “What, were you too embarrassed to admit what _really_ happened, that you had to make up lies?” he scoffed, grasping at straws.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Dean! You _know_ what you did, _everyone_ knows what you did! The adults were right; you’re all the same! Trying to corrupt the normal kids....I bet you got a real kick outta forcing yourself on us! Ram’s still in the hospital because of you!” Kurt yelled, face reddening in his anger. JD’s breath caught in his throat, hot, angry tears prickling at his eyes. He pushed himself up to his feet, shoulders trembling as he seethed silently.

 

“You’re a coward, Kurt Kelly,” he hissed, glaring at the ground through his bangs. ‘ _Don’t cry don’t cry don’t you fucking DARE cry Jason Dean!’_ Kurt looked at him, disbelieving.

 

 _“I’m_ a coward?!” Kurt growled, clenching his fists. JD barely saw the punch coming, registering it just before impact. He went flying, stumbling back across the hallway, through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea before Moses. JD spat out blood, fury boiling over. He saw red, launching himself at Kurt.

 

“You’re the dictionary definition of a coward! Hiding behind lies and stories because your fucking pride can’t handle the goddamn truth!” he screamed, realizing too late that that statement made him sound even guiltier. He managed to land one good punch on Kurt before someone dragged him back. He struggled against their hold, throwing his head back to see who grabbed him.

 

Heather Mcnamara was there, holding him back as she watched the scene with wide eyes. He looked back, his anger draining out and replaced by awe and fear when he saw Ronnie going toe to toe with Kurt. She too managed to get a couple good hits in before she was beat to the ground by Kurt’s asshole friends. JD snarled in wordless fury when he saw blood spattering the floor below her, fighting with renewed vigor against Heather’s ironclad grip.

 

 _“Freak!”_  
_  
“Homo!”_

 

_“Psycho!”_

 

_“Punkass!”_

 

_“Homo!”_

 

Each insult was accompanied by a punch or a kick and all he could do was watch as they hurt Ronnie, too helpless to even block his ears and drown out the insults. He wasn't sure which words were referring to whom, but he didn’t care. Any insult was too much. Anyone who hurt Ronnie would pay, even if that person was himself.

 

She was the only person besides the Heathers who was actually kind to him from the start, after all.

 

\--

 

_“‘Nica, are you okay?”_

 

_“I’m fine.”_

 

_“Are you sure? I-I mean, some of those kicks looked really bad....”_

 

 _“I said I’m_ **_fine,_ ** _Martha! I’m more worried about JD right now._ **_He’s_ ** _the one who they all turned on.”_

 

_“..........Welcome to Westerburg, I guess. You’re not a true student if someone hasn’t picked on you at least once. It’s practically a badge of honor at this point.”_

 

 _“Yeah, but..........did you see how he was crying? He was trying to hide it but I_ **_saw_ ** _it, Martha! They hurt him........they hurt you......they’ll_ **_keep_ ** _hurting everyone weaker than them.”_

 

_“.........’Nica, you’re scaring me.”_

 

_“...................”_

 

_“‘Nica? Hey, ‘Nica!”_

 

 _“I’m here.”_  


_“Don’t do anything stupid, got it?”_

 

_“Yeah, whatever.”_

 

 _“No, promise me! I know what you were like in middle school and dammit ‘Nica I don't want you going back to that!_ **_Promise me_ ** _that you won’t get that bad again!”_

 

_“...................I promise, I won’t do anything stupid.”_

 

_“.......Okay. Okay, that’s all I can ask, I guess.”_


End file.
